M is for Magic

For the complete series, click here.

N brought a baggy sweater and sweatpants for me. A bathrobe for M.

M sits on one side of the table. N and I on the other. M picks a bottle off the ground and holds it to his eye.

“Hair of the dog?” he asks.

N and I give him a parental look. He hangs his head. Then, with his other hand he pulls a clump of Belly’s loose dog fur off the bench beside him. He holds it up.

“Hair of the dog?”

N laughs. I glare at him. He stops. M lets the hair fall back onto the bench.

“You need to stop with the magic.”

“I agree,” N puts in, playing supportive uncle to my single mother.

M nods.

“We need to call that pirate—“

“Magician,” M says.

“Pirate Magician,” I say, firmly. “He can come and fix all of this. Do you know his number?”

M nods. I hand him the phone.

“You need to call him and get him to fix this mess.”

M dials a number on my phone. He says a few things in Russian and frowns. He hands the phone across to N.

“It’s a woman, she is speaking too fast.”

N takes the phone and chats for a bit while M and I decide, silently, polishing off the whiskey is a good plan after all.

N hangs up the phone. He gives us a morbid look.

“He’s dead.”

“What happened?” M and I ask simultaneously.

N starts smiling. He fixes a serious expression.

“I guess he had a party, and, he fell from the balcony of his fifth story apartment.”

“Ouch,” M says.

“Yeah,” N continues, “well, he didn’t die then, actually, he stood right up and told the guests to throw his accordion down to him so he could play them a song, to celebrate, so, they did, and well,” N pauses.

“Well?”

“Well, it fell on his head and killed him,” N finishes.

I start to laugh but shake it off in time to not feel too guilty. I turn and give M a stern look.

“See?”

M whistles. “Man, that is some bad luck.”

“Yeah,” I say, “see where this goes?”

M nods. He looks down at his hands, solemn. Then, his face lights up.

“Wait, I know!” he cries.

He snaps his fingers.

“NO!” I cry. N and I both lunge at him. We each grab an arm. There is a pop in the center of the kitchen. We all turn. The Pirate Magician stands there, looking puzzled.

He walks over to us. He bends down and gives my ear a curious look.

“Ah!” He reaches behind my ear. He straightens up, dangling my other blue-checkered sock in front of us.

He drops it on the table.

“Abrah-Kadabrah!” he cries, laughs, then vanishes.

THE END.

9 comments

  1. Just a brilliant story from start to finish, flash365. High quality and humour maintained throughout and finished off beautifully. Your writing has been here to admire by all for a while but I’m sure I’m not alone in looking forward to more acting stints. Your single mother performance was rich in authenticity. It has been a privilege. Thank you. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. this was the first serie I read…I chose it, because of the title, but I will read all of them….takes some time…thanks for this creative entertainmant!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. hahaha, perfect story with rounding sock!
    Now remains open: drama or happy end.The death of the pirate was clearly high spirits, who rarely does well even if he was saved. The question is, who saves M. when it comes to this?

    Liked by 1 person

      • Oh thank you I will check this out! I´, curious if he is still using magic or not in the stories afterwards….and perhaps I´ll find other stories with the character of the shared flat.

        Like

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